


the stars keep on calling my name

by softshelltaako



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Episode: e060-066 The Stolen Century Parts 1-7, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, M/M, Some kissing, Stargazing, kind of rambly, magnus thinks a lot, pretty much no plot, taako is very pretty, v mild ref to angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-18 22:30:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11884179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softshelltaako/pseuds/softshelltaako
Summary: The stars look the same here as they did back on their plane.magnus gets reflective on a planet that looks just a little bit like home and worries just a lot about losing the people (or, more pointedly, person) he wants to protect. some pointless fluff with a teeny smidge of angst tossed in there.title is a mac demarco song





	the stars keep on calling my name

**Author's Note:**

> The stars look the same here as they did back on their plane.
> 
> magnus gets reflective on a planet that looks just a little bit like home and worries just a lot about losing the people (or, more pointedly, person) he wants to protect. some pointless fluff with a teeny smidge of angst tossed in there.  
> title is a mac demarco song

The stars look the same here as they did back on their plane.

It strikes Magnus one night, the grass soft under his back except for the places where blades poke through his shirt. It should be uncomfortable but in all honesty, he’s just grateful to be back on a planet with grass. There’s a lot here that reminds him of home: massive trees with thick trunks, familiar trills of birdsong, the aroma of forest and flora.

He stares at the pinholes of light overhead, silent, and mulls over their decades of adventure. The IPRE has gone from an organization to a mish-moshed sort of family. Maybe he’s just being too sentimental. After all, he doubts the resident twin terrors would ever admit to something so sappy. Cap’nport seems a little too caught up in plans and escape routes to worry about team bonding, and Merle’s far too occupied with dying over and over to get information from John.

A set of thin fingers carding through his hair catches his attention, and he drags his focus from the sparkling stars to an even brighter set of eyes gazing curiously down at him. “Earth to the brick shithouse. You in there, bubeleh?”

Magnus gives a vague grunt of recognition before letting his eyes fall closed, ignoring the flutter of warmth in his gut that Taako has been stirring up for years now. His brow furrows as the feeling spreads to his fingertips. It’s an odd sensation, still remains that way even with all the time that’s passed. Suddenly, there’s a cool set of hands framing his face, and a thumb smooths the creases out from his forehead.

“What’s on your mind, big guy?”

The fighter pops one eye open and is greeted with the sight of Taako’s curious face perched over his own. A curtain of smooth blonde hair falls over them. Magnus can’t resist the urge to twirl a strand around his finger, careful not to tug, lest Taako start swinging. He knew well enough by now not to pull unless asked, and Taako was _very_ clear about when he wanted his hair pulled.

Not that that mattered right now.

Magnus lets the hair fall from his fingers, instead gently lifting one of Taako’s hands from his own face and linking his fingers through it. The elf looks vaguely concerned, an expression Magnus has learned to pick up on through his veil of complete aloofness, and he offers a warm smile to counter. “Just thinking.”

“Thanks, Fantasy Sherlock. Wanna be any vaguer?” Even with the snarky edge to his voice, Taako struggles to fight the grin that pulls at his lips. Magnus wants to kiss him but knows they’re far more likely to just bump foreheads if he lifts himself up, so he relents in favor of toying absently with Taako’s digits. The wizard’s skin is smoother than his own, magic far more forgiving than wood and iron.

Magnus considers the other’s words for a moment before offering, “I do, but _can I?_ ” That gets a solid laugh out of Taako, and the elf bends forward, allowing their noses to bump.

“You’re a jackass,” he chuckles, but the words are fond as the knuckles of his free hand brush gently over Magnus’s cheek. The fighter’s smile is bright when he tilts his head back just enough to let his lips ghost over Taako’s. The laugh dances over his skin like the breeze that blows Taako’s hair and ruffles their clothes. He smells like something Magnus can’t put his finger on, and he bets Taako could tell him each individual floral note in his perfume because that’s such a Taako thing to do.

He _can_ , however, describe how Taako _tastes_ , a sensation he has become well acquainted with over time. He could go on for days about the way his lips tingle whenever their mouths connect or how to this day he’s still not sure if it’s just nerves or the kind of gloss Taako uses. It’s like vanilla, or maybe cinnamon - probably both, knowing Taako - but whatever it is, he loves it, loves the way their lips slot together, loves how soft and warm and compliant Taako becomes at times like this.

Not that he doesn’t like Taako as usual, because he does - loves it, even. He loves the sarcasm, the biting sense of humor, the carelessly-flung and yet artisanally-crafted insults. Taako is all sharp edges and harsh corners, a cocky air spurred on by emotional inarticulacy. It was always irritating to Magnus, until it became intriguing, and then full-on alluring. Now, he simply lets himself get lost in it all, awash in affection for both sides, warmed with the knowledge that few are allowed to see the first and he just so happens to be one of them.

His skin is alight with goosebumps when Taako makes a small sound into his mouth. Through half-lidded eyes, he can see Taako’s long lashes fluttering, the hint of a blush flooding his cheeks and bridging his nose. It’s adorable, which he doesn’t say because he isn’t looking to interrupt this very romantic moment with a magic missile to the face. Instead, he laughs a bit, cupping Taako’s warm cheek in his hand. “Lookin’ a little red.”

“Bite me.”

“That can be arranged.”

Taako laughs this time, high-pitched and warm, and it makes his stomach vibrate against Magnus’s head. Magnus takes the opportunity as Taako rears back with his cackling to sit up and just watch him for a moment, fond smile lingering on his features. The elf’s eyes are crinkled with joy, nose scrunched, and Magnus feels his heart twist inside his ribs. He can’t stop himself from rushing in, practically clicking their teeth together in his eager dash to bring lips to lips. His hands nearly engulf Taako’s face, cradling it like nothing could be more fragile, although they both know he’s proved that to be untrue by now. Silence settles for once, a rare thing between them. Magnus’s brain is blissfully empty, nothing but warmth and familiarity and an overwhelming sense of belonging.

It doesn’t take much effort to haul Taako into his lap, the elf’s hands easily finding their way to his shoulders. There’s a pause where they both try to catch their breath, lips lingering less than an inch away, as if they can’t bear to be any further. Magnus’s chest aches with the weight of the things Taako’s eyes do to him, so wide and wild.

“Maggie.” He only hums in answer, eyes still scanning the scattered freckles and lingering flush, the parted lips that shallow breaths wheeze through. He’d never hurt Taako but he wants to kiss bruises into those lips. “You’re like some kinda animal tonight. What’s the rush?”

Magnus isn’t sure how to respond to that, doesn’t know why his grip on Taako’s hips feels so tight, why he can’t just loosen his fingers, why his body feels like a bicycle chain, taut and tense. He buries his face in Taako’s neck with a noncommittal noise, trying to stall for time by pressing openmouthed kisses against the skin. “I just…” His teeth run over goosebumps, rough for an instant before smoothing over the spot with apologetic lips. “I feel… like I have to. I don’t want…”

Something strikes him, sudden and unexpected, and he’s rooted in place with the vicious fear of losing the lithe frame in his grasp. They've done it before - not just the two of them but all of them. They've each died at least once, at some point or another. However, rather than getting easier, it's only gotten more and more difficult with time. Every time Magnus fails to protect Taako, the fear that this time they won't get a redo floods his veins. It lingers in his bones and under the surface of his skin, gnawing at him incessantly until they all pop back into place on the Starblaster and he can scoop the elf up and crush him in a bear hug.

Maybe Taako senses it, fingers running down the tense muscles of his back as he gently says his name. He doesn’t move Magnus’s face away, but he does tangle his own hand in the back of the fighter’s hair. His grip works as an anchor, cranking Magnus back to the base, until he becomes aware of the way he’s breathing heavily into the crook of Taako’s neck.

“Sorry.”

It’s soft and timid, and if Taako notices the slight waver, he doesn’t comment on it. “No worries, m’dude. Take it easy.” Then there are soft, undoubtedly recently-balmed lips on his jaw, brushing comfortingly over the stubble. “We got all the time in the world.”

They don’t, really. Nobody knows for certain when the loops will run out. Nobody wants to think too hard about it, for fear of the answer. But Magnus will take the comfort, letting himself melt against the body in his lap. He pushes back the worry and the tension and for once, he reaches for patience. He takes his time. The future is out of his hands, but Taako, thankfully, is not.

**Author's Note:**

> yell at me on twitter! @shirosprincess


End file.
